In the shadows that offend, eyes wide shut

[Antranig Sutlian]

Dusk. Not yet night, not fully day. Light drains from the sky with a slow drip drip like water rendered through a seive at snail's pace. Inside, charms employed to brighten corridors, to create a span of brightness, to chase away the dark.

If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.

But some retreat to shadow still, perched upon the top step of what seems a long-forgotten stairwell, black clothes that should be covered with robe but are not and shall not be until some supervisor makes an issue of it collecting dust as the newest employee of St. Mungo's rereads for what might just be the millionth time one page torn from the binding of a book he had lost long ago.

And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
if you pardon, we will mend:

No real need for the paper as the eyes that have seen so much in their harried stay upon the Earth have committed every last syllable to memory, but there is comfort in the holding, in the physical, as if to clutch the parchment means the words were once real, once the product of quill dipped in ink, once the musings of a man who had the soul of a poet, a man who had breathed and lived and died. A reminder that there is beauty in the world, the beauty that poetry, that theatre, that art upon a canvas reminds one of.

And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long;

The long lost book had been a present from a witch who had a curly tongue and straight hair, a tart of a thing to the world, but a jewel, not ruby or emerald but something yet unseen by man's eyes and known only to the Armenian atop the stairwell. The page was all that was left of the book and all that was left of the girl. Though there had been others since her. Oh Merlin, had there been other, witches of every size and shape and color. Oh what memories of faces caught in ecstasy of flesh warm to the touch of sighs of his name catching in the chamber of his ears, the good doctor could recall if he chose to! But all he thought of was the page illuminated in the blue wand light in the staircase that he hoped man had forgot entirely. Ask the wizard if he was single, if there was some woman to which he cleaved to and he would reply with wry smile that he fell in love daily and with extreme prejudice, and now he fell in love with Shakespeare anew.

Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.

Page read, he laid it carefully upon his lap, placing his hands behind him on the landing so he could stretch his neck back and up toward the ceiling. He had been told to take an hour for dinner. There would be time to read the page again. But for now, he was caught in thoughts even he could not name.

{a weird post, i know, but i promise if someone takes the gamble to come into the thread, you won't be sorry}

[Lily Morten]

I'll give it a shot

[Antranig Sutlian]

woo

[Lily Morten]

That's right. Get excited for we are going to see how creative Lucky can get tonight.

[Antranig Sutlian]

well then i shall say 'woo' again . . . but i shall be retiring for the evening soon . . .will reply in the morning though, scouts honor

[Lily Morten]

-shrug-
S'alright. I am getting into my mood, so it may take me awhile anyways.

[Lily Morten]

Night after night, sheer torture.

The physical pain came almost every waking moment, sending blinding pain down her body while it screams in agony. Every turn she moved, every time she sighed, a flash of pain sending the pain receptors into alarm and the doctors to her bedside. Always they told her the same thing; to take her medication and to quit moving so much. How easy it was for them to say that to her, they were not the ones confined to a bed for months now, not knowing why they weren’t healing like they should be. They weren’t the one dying for a bit of fresh air, for a bit of music other than the dribble they played here at the hospital. These doctor may know how to heal the body, but they knew nothing of the mind, soul or heart.

Her heart, it was dying. Lack of the attention she knew she needed, lack of the feeling she was worth taking time for. Sure, her doctors gave her plenty of attention, but it was because of her back, not because of who she was. If she was back in action, back home, she would have her parents who cared so deeply for her, and her sister, and…him. Well, she used to “have” him. Together, it felt like they could do anything. Apart, she could survive, but things got so very lonely. She did not deal well with being lonely well. Not well at all.

Glancing at the clock on her wall, she sighed and closed her eyes. If only she could will herself to sleep, this place might be a little more bearable. Time was one of her worst enemies here. It never would go by quickly, but it would always stay for awhile more than it was welcome. Now, if she were to actually take her pain medication, time might go a little faster. Those meds tended to make her a little more than tipsy. Taking the bottle in her hand, she popped open the lid and glared at the contents. She did not like the feeling those tiny yellow pills gave her. If she was going to feel like that, she was going to be drinking and partying at the bar. Her back didn’t bother her as much when she was standing, but she also tended to get a little dizzy when on her feet for hours upon hours.

Bored already, she carefully sat up and stood smoothly on the floor next to her bed. To her doctors, she was just a patient, and she stopped trying to be anything other than that around them. To the guys at the bar, she was a flirt, and that she was now when she was around them. Honestly, she hadn’t been herself for quite awhile, since she had been admitted in fact. Was there a Lily even left? She knew people always asked themselves questions about their very person, just so they can find a way to hide the things they had just found. But why did people think they need to hide their character from others must be a large factor in their thought process including her own, but the reason has yet to be discovered by anyone.

Maybe they just wanted the acceptance that came with the acting like what others wanted you to be. But even if questioned about this hiding of character, they panic slightly and momentarily before denying every bit. Maybe they don’t realize they are closing off from the world or maybe they think the world has closed off on them and they are the ones being lied to. However, it may also be that they are completely afraid; afraid of the people they might let in if they are not careful, or afraid that the person they will let in will laugh at the real person within and leave the heart to continue cracking along a path that leads to utter destruction. But for her, the reason was clear. She needed that attention, that mock-love. There are many other reasons why these masks people wear are being worn, but there are just as many reasons, if not more, that they should fall and let loose the person beneath. For letting people into your heart does mean that there is a chance your heart might develop a few cracks, but there is also the chance that you will let someone in that truly cares for you and wants to be with the actual person behind that mask created by lies. And all this healing woman wanted was love right? So what was holding her back? Those cracks that the others caused can be healed by someone whose love is let in, so isn’t it worth the minor pain of a fractured heart to love and be loved by one who may be what society calls your soul-mate? Maybe it was time for those masks that are made out of the lies we once thought protected us to fall off the faces of people who just long to be real, people who have a deep desire to be loved and cared for honestly by another human being. So that when they question themselves to find who really lies within, they can’t help but smile when they realize that here is nothing more they need to hide, that they are loved solely for being themselves, their true self. If only there was a way for her own mask to fall, if only she had the courage to take it off.

Slow step by slow, careful step, she almost floated out of her room and down the large hallways. Trainees ran about on their duties, and she heard the voice of one of her healers a room over, but otherwise, the coast was clear. With back straitened in a way where no pressure was put on her wounds, she turned the corner of the hall ways and stopped suddenly. There on the steps was a healer draped in is green uniform, reading a book. Great. Maybe this time they would go through with their threat they made last time she snuck out of her room, jamming enough pain killers in her bloodstream to keep her in bed for a week. Not breathing at all, she took one step backwards while her mind raced. If she moved too much, he would hear her and that meant drugs. If she stood here, he would see her and that meant drugs. Taking the first option over the latter, she took another step back and another.


[Yeah, so it’s pretty crappy.]]

[Antranig Sutlian]

There was an odd sort of something that signalled a person's presence long before their footsteps could be heard, before a glimpse of their visage crept into your periphery, before you could tell whehter they smelled of sweat or ginger or raspberries or earth. It was the reason why you could feel someone watching you. It was the thing that spurned steps to hasten when walking alone at night, sure someone malevolent was behind you though no one seemed to be there. And it was this sense that made Antranig sit up slightly upon the stairs, his shoulders moving back, chin raising into a noble shilouette, all senses on alert.

His eyes darted to the side, catching enough of an image to glean the identity of who was now trying to retreat unnoticed. Her room was on the right side of the corridor. She had burns that baffled everyone in the stubborn way they lingered on rather than giving way to the healing effects of time. Her name was Lily, but the moment that he had first seen her a week ago upon his arrival to the hospital, he had thought the name far too ordinary for her looks. She was not the flower only displayed at funerals, given as a token of sympathy amidst a dark time. No, she was night jasmine, bovardia, anenome. But first and foremost, she was out of her bed when she should not be.

"I assume you are lookingk for a nurse, Miss Morten."

Only then did he shift his gaze toward her, his eyes locking with hers in a stare that seemed to pierce the flesh and travel beyond it, a gaze into her rather than at her, and he accompanied the look with a slow rise to his feet.

"Vas there novun at the station? Are you in needt of somethingk I can assist you vith?" His face rigidly impassive, he stalked toward her, eyes boring into her, awaiting a reply and not so dim to really believe she had taken from her bed to have some need met. There was a buzzer to call the staff, afterall.

[Lily Morten]

“Lily, watch out!”

Diving to her left, the dark head curled into a ball to soften the blow of landing on the hard, scorched earth as the Ukrainian Ironbelly dove past her in a flaming flight, a tired sigh left the lips of Lilian Morten. Most people would say that Ukrainian Ironbelly’s were to hard to capture or contain in any way, but Lily, her sister Rose, and her father planned on containing this one, or at least distracting it. They would be the first to contain it if they did, and that really never crossed their minds. All they were trying to do was get to her baby which was slowly dying from a nasty infection. A simple shot would ensure it’s surviving, but the baby’s mother was not going to let three nasty little humans get at her baby. Cursing, the twenty-two year old looked around for her dropped cable launcher. As she saw half of it next to the dragon, she cursed again looked around for Rose and her father. Her father was behind a rock some forty feet to her left, and Rose was nowhere to be seen.

“Lily! Move!”

Okay so Rose was over there. Shit. Rose had the dragon mother occupied in a game of hide and seek around a formation of rocks and the baby was wide open. Snapping a syringe from her belt, she uncapped the long needle and made her way slowly around the mother. Now was not the time she wanted that huge thing to turn around to see her heading towards her baby. With her father moving in on the baby on her left with half a small pig in tow, Lily risked a glance at Rose. Rose was still playing with the Ironbelly, and slowly losing. They had to hurry. Taking those last steps to the baby, she slowly inserted the needle in as her father feed the 6 foot thing.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Shriek.

Mama wasn’t too happy playing hide and seek anymore. Mama wanted to play with the little human girl hurting her baby. Done. Pulling the needle out of the dragon’s tough hide, her father dropped the pig’s head and ran while she ran off after him. Hearing the dragons wings beating as it took flight, Lily screamed at her father to go faster as Rose held their booms out before her. Ironbellies weren’t the fastest fliers, seeing as they usually weighed four or five tons, the biggest six tons, and once they were far enough away, the mother would turn back to her baby. So maybe they didn’t contain her, distracting her was enough; the baby would survive, and every one counted now.

Sheer, unbearable pain. Agony racing through her back. Before she knew it, she way lying on the ground, face down, with blood pooling around her. Suddenly, heat engulfed her body. Her feet, legs, and hands were protected by fireproof fabric and other fireproof substances and her face was to the ground, but her back was a clear shot. She felt everything going dark as a steal arrow whizzed over her head at the Ironbelly and her father’s hands pulled her away from the massive monster.

“I am not looking for a nurse, Doctor.”

Smiling at him cruelly, she took one defiant step forward. But when he looked at her, shivers went down her body. It was almost as if he was looking into her soul, she did not enjoy that feeling and she refused to let him do that. Letting her innocent patient mask fall over her, she stood her ground as he rose to his feet.

"Vas there novun at the station? Are you in needt of somethingk I can assist you vith?"

He knew that she had no good reason to be out of her bed, so in turn she intended to give him one. She couldn’t have needed a nurse, or she would have called the station, he knew that. Food wasn’t an option, for they brought that too her room. Ahh.

“No, sir, there is nothing. Unless you plan on getting fresh air and a little exercise for me? For I am going outside to clear my head of this headache.”

[Antranig Sutlian]

"And lastly, Doctor Sutlian, always remember to keep personal and professional acquaintances just that. Though, I doubt I need to say such things to a man like yourself . . ."

The last piece of advice given to him by Professor Nordstran when the man had retired from the clinic in Deva. Antranig often meditated on the theme of exactly what the professor had meant. What sort of man was he that he could not be moved to feel for his patients beyond the realm of professionalism? Was it a compliment or a sleight? Did it speak to his sense of duty or his lack of humanity to have such a thing said?

The questions only compounded when a certain witch arrived at the clinic, ironically almost a year after Nordstran was gone, a witch who had disarmed him, made it impossible for him to retreat into the corners of ambivalence that he was so accustomed to residing in. Something in her had threaded tendrils around his heart that so easily beat for no one, and if she had remained longer in his care, he might just have crossed the borders of good ethics. The incident had scared him, forced him to construct higher walls around himself, to ensure he would never again find himself in such near peril.

It took a toll upon his bedside manner in some ways, however, and this became evident as he spoke to Miss Morten once more, his tone more harsh than might have been neccessary.

"A vitch in your condintion needts rest more than air."

Clasping his hands behind his back, eyes focused on her with a slight hint of disapproval he continued, "But I heff seen enough of you know that you vill not listen. Andt so I vill accompany you. In case there is trouble."

Placing a heavy hand upon her shoulder, he steered her back toward the door. "But ve shall take the lift nyet the stairs." Pushing the door open with his free hand.

"Aftar you, Miss Morten."

[Lily Morten]

-snick-
You touched her, dear one!
-snickerfit-
-dies-

[Antranig Sutlian]

*cracks up*
too bad the post sucked otherwise
*scowls*
sorry . . .

[Lily Morten]

'tis alright, puts less pressuse on me
-nodnod-
At this moment I have...
-counts on fingers-
Seven posts which require my reply...soon to be eight

[Lily Morten]

Why was it that when one became a patient, they were dubbed as completely helpless? If only she knew the reason, then maybe she could get this absolutely iron-hearted doctor out of her hair. She knew who he was now, this was Doctor Sutlian who worked on the floor above her room. Many, many stories about him had found her ears, and from the few moments she had been near him, she knew that the stories were most likely true, or at least very close to the truth. He was a good doctor, yes, but not a very kind one which tended to make his patients feel more injured than they really were. Well, she had to give him one point; he was fun to look at.

"A vitch in your condintion needts rest more than air."

“A which in my condition is more comfortable walking around than sitting in a bed where he wounds put her in pain every two seconds from contact with those horrid sheets!” Shooting her words back at him, she crossed her arms and looked at him, just daring him to challenge her.

"But I heff seen enough of you know that you vill not listen. Andt so I vill accompany you. In case there is trouble."

Trouble. He was babying her without actually being nice. Whoa. Confusion. Well, actually, he probably heard from her many nurses that she could be quite a handful, so that might be the actual reason why he was insisting on coming with her, not that he cared about her well being in anyway. Yeah, that was probably it. She wouldn’t deny that she was stubborn, but she didn’t think that the whole entire hospital would know about her. She was, after all, only one patient out of many.

Felling a weight on her shoulder, she bit her bottom lip as his hand brushed against the very edges of her burns and gashes. And he was supposed to be the doctor. Suddenly, searing pain went through her body. Pressure, pain, burning, darkness. With her breathing raspy, the twenty-three year old hit the floor after a jumble of words left the doctors mouth.

[ick]

[Antranig Sutlian]

I'm posting finally.
Sorry.
And I'm watching Poseidon
and am traumatized by how old Richard Dreyfus is